Blame
by Floatlikeafeather
Summary: Based on recent events/spoilers. Looking at the impact of Carla's story on others. Chapter 1. Roy, 2. Kate, 3. Peter, 4. Nick, 5. Ken, 6. Gary
1. Roy

He should have seen it coming.

He should have been there.

As he stood at the door, watching her through its narrow glass window, he felt an overwhelming sadness. How had he let it come to this? She should have been able to rely on him and he had let her down. He'd lost track of how long he had been standing there; she hadn't yet noticed him, consumed by her own thoughts no doubt. He couldn't bring himself to consider what was going on in her tortured mind, he did not begin to understand what she must be going through. If he was honest with himself he was scared to enter the room, terrified by the new reality that faced them both, not knowing if he could measure up or be what she needed him to.

He thought back to the previous day, when they had finally tracked her down after what felt like weeks of searching. The search team were covering ground they had been over before, beginning to lose faith, but not wanting to face the prospect of what that would mean. It was pure luck that he found her really, by the time she noticed his approach it was too late for her to hide, and she was in no state to run.

He had gone over to her and she let him hold her for what felt like an age, gently sobbing into his coat as he tried to shelter her from the world. It was an alien feeling to him, being the one openly offering the affection. He had lost count of the times she had embraced him over the years, him always awkward, although he was sure that she knew how much it meant to him. She was the daughter he would have wanted if life had turned out differently, a bright and colourful presence in what had often felt like a world of grey. If only he could have been the anchor she needed to keep her safe from this storm.

Eventually he had felt her go quiet, her childlike sobs replaced by slowed breathing and he knew it was time for them to move, for him to find her the help she desperately needed.

That is how she had ended up here. He had managed to persuade her to come, coaxing her, reassuring her that everything would be OK. He had used her unflinching trust in him, and he had felt both their hearts rip open when she realised that he had betrayed her; when the doctors explained that she couldn't go home, that she couldn't trust what her mind was telling her. She had looked at him with hatred in that moment. Yet another person she now believed meant her harm. He knew he had done the right thing, that there was never another option, but that knowledge would not help him sleep at night.

His thoughts back in the present, he watched her sitting quietly on the chair, limbs tightly knotted in the same position as when he had found her, so vulnerable and alone, and cursed himself again for the part he had played. He knew her better than almost anyone, she had confided in him and leant on him countless times, as he had on her, yet at the time she most needed him he had put himself first. He had been blinded by narrow-minded morality, he hadn't stopped to consider that her actions leading to the roof collapse, although misguided, may have been more complex than a simple disregard of others to benefit herself. He had spent many restless nights recently thinking this through, he should have realised the situation wasn't black and white, that she would never deliberately put her staff in harm's way. He had seen her sacrifices over the years, her basic humanity; yes she was impulsive and often forthright, and he couldn't deny he had seen her be selfish at times, but she was also compassionate and desperate to protect others from the pain that had blighted so much of her life.

The day he had made her move out she thanked him. He had berated her, scolded her and told her to go, and she had put up no resistance, just tried to ease his conscience. Why did he not see it then? Why had he not sat her down and talked things through? He had seen how stressed she had been, her desperation to talk to him in the days before it happened, when all he had focused on was her betrayal over the boat fire. Could he call it betrayal? She had tried to protect him, shield him from the damage his own grief had caused, putting herself in the firing line for him and instead of gratitude he had given her the cold-shoulder. She had made wrong decisions and she should have known how he felt about dishonesty, but even so he couldn't shake the realisation that he had been unduly harsh when he should have been in her corner, like she was always in his. Why had he then left town to go on some fool's errand at the other end of the country, adding to her isolation, only finding out what had happened when she had already been missing for days? What made it harder to bear was that she wouldn't blame him for any of it; well the woman he knew wouldn't, and he hoped desperately that she was still in there somewhere, not too deeply trapped inside her own mind to be set free.

He took a deep breath. He knew that the time had come, that she needed him and he couldn't put it off any longer. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.


	2. Kate

She's entitled to hate her. The woman that destroyed her life, took away the best person she had ever known. Why was it all so complicated? Her grief should have been all she needed to focus on, but no, her sister once again commanded the attention. "A breakdown" they said, "high risk, a priority".

She listened to the voicemail again. How many times was that, 50, 100? She knew it did no good, but she couldn't stop. Hearing the confused ramblings of the woman she used to look up to, so distressed and clearly separated from reality. What right did 'she' have to fall apart; It was her fault, her choices that led them all here.

Kate thought about the interactions she had with her sister before her disappearance, she had been filled with rage, desperate to scream and lash out, and was met with silence. Carla wouldn't look her in the eye but was a constant presence; in the Rovers, on the street, it was like she wouldn't leave her alone.

Until she did.

Kate should have felt relief, or some form of retribution, yet she didn't. Just more anger. At whom exactly, well she wished she could answer. Her dad. He should be there for her, like he always had been in the past, but despite everything that had happened he had not stayed solely on her side, he had wavered, hesitated, and ultimately gone to Carla's aid. Michelle was more complicated. She knew her loyalties would always be split, her closeness to Carla obvious, but surely she couldn't condone her actions? How could they find it so easy to forgive?

Herself? She was justified to feel like she did. Her happy ever after had turned into a living hell, how could she be expected to move past this and forgive her sister.

But she was her sister.

She replayed the voicemail message again.

Her sister whose upbringing couldn't have been more different; who had always seemed so strong, so in control. She knew some of Carla's past, but had always felt there was much more that she didn't. Was this because Carla still hadn't felt they were close enough to really open up to her? Or was it to protect her, to save her from the guilt of knowing that she had been gifted a life that Carla could have only dreamed of; the chosen daughter, a childhood of love and protection, her dad a constant that she knew would always be there.

But this didn't excuse what Carla had done. How could it?

"please tell me where you are."

The pleading tone in those last few words of the voicemail hit Kate like a punch in the stomach. She could recite the words off by heart but still felt the impact of them every time it played. They were the pleas of somebody full of remorse, desperately searching for forgiveness.

She couldn't forgive.

But she was her sister.

Carla couldn't have known that Rana would be in that place at that time. Kate knew deep down that she didn't intend for this to happen. She wondered how she would feel if it had been somebody else on that fateful day, a different family torn apart. Would she feel the same burning hatred, or would she try and understand her sister's actions, give her a chance to explain? She knew the answer to this but didn't want to admit it. It shouldn't matter. But it did.

Her dad had asked her to help, when they had been told the full details of Carla's situation. She had laughed in disbelief that he could even ask. Yet here she was, replaying the message, unable to delete it.

She hated her.

Didn't she?

She thought about the message, how frightened she sounded, it was barely her sister at all. How would she feel if that was the last time she heard her voice, or if their last ever interaction were vicious words spoken in anger?

Kate realised that she couldn't leave it like this. She needed to help her, for her own piece of mind as well as Carla's. She hated her, well she thought she did, but that could wait.

She had to make sure she was OK.


	3. Peter

**_Thanks for all the lovely reviews._**  
**_I have taken a bit of artistic licence, with each of the chapters being at different time points, as I'm finding it easier to write that way._**  
**_Sorry if they're a bit bleak, I feel they have to be to reflect the situation they are all in. Maybe I'll try for something a bit happier in the future!  
_**

Peter.

"Two car crashes make one big pile up"

He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, debating his next move. He needed to stay strong for her. He couldn't let himself give in, not now, when her well-being so depended on him. He thought back to their conversation on New Year's Eve, when she'd told him in no uncertain terms that it was never going to work. God that felt like a lifetime ago. It was true, they had had their share of pile ups, but he had always been the one to make first impact, and she had just followed behind, got caught up in the wreckage.

This time it was different.

This was not Carla. He had seen every side of her, knew her inside out. She was strong, she had been through so much and yet found the strength to always come out fighting. Well almost. He had seen her broken before, the mask she put up for the world slipping for him. This had made him love her more, the vulnerability she kept hidden, the lost soul that so mirrored his own. But she always came through in the end, high heels on and lippy intact. Why did this time feel so different?

On the day he was leaving, the day she begged him to stay, he had almost managed to resist her. She had said she needed him, and he had turned her away, trying to spare both of them the next crash, the inevitable heartbreak. Spare her the pain of watching him let her down again.

Then everything changed.

He had known immediately that he had to go back for her, he knew that the factory collapse would impact her more than she would ever let on. He didn't have the details then, when he found her, tried to console her, held her as she admitted her unbearable truth, wishing he could take her pain away but knowing it wasn't that simple.

He had tried to help her, protect her. Damage limitation. Looking back now he could see how stupid he had been, how he had made it worse, added to her suffering. The truth always comes out, and perhaps if he had handled things differently she could have reached some sort of acceptance, both for herself and those around her.

His heart ached for her in the days afterwards. Yes he had watched her suffer before, but she became so distant, so detached, lost in grief and despair, unable to face the world that had become so bleak, the people who had turned their backs in disgust.

But then she had seemed better.

He blamed himself for not seeing it. His dad noticed, realised that something was seriously wrong, yet he, the man who claimed to love her missed all the signs. Well that's not strictly true. He knew she was struggling, not sleeping, barely eating, but she had seemed more responsive; he thought she just needed time, a distraction. Maybe he just didn't want to believe it, still wanted the fantasy that everything would be OK, that his Carla, his infuriating, intoxicating, imperfect soulmate was coming back to him.

He had never needed a drink more in his life.

But then he would have failed her yet again. The woman who had always been let down by everyone who mattered. Him included. That was still his biggest regret in life, what he did to her with Tina, to their future, to their child. He couldn't let her down again, not this time. He had to resist.

When he had found her outside the factory, barefoot and utterly exposed, she was like a shadow, there but not complete, her penetrating eyes searching his face for answers he did not have. He had tried to calm her, rationalise with her, but she was too far gone, he knew that now, his love alone couldn't save her from this. She recoiled from him, feared him, thought he would do her harm. The memory of that still hurt him the most. He had wanted nothing more in that moment than to be her safety, her home, to give her something true to believe in.

It had sort of worked. She had followed him, trusted him enough to be guided to the medical centre, the only place he could think of to take her. He thought he had done it, made a difference, protected her from herself. She had saved him so many times from his own demons, it was his turn, and he had so nearly made it. When he discovered she had gone, he felt his world collapsing right alongside hers. How could she survive alone? How could he live without her, knowing that he had the chance to stop this?

He had searched everywhere he could think of those frantic first few hours. In the early stages he expected to see her around every corner, almost waiting for him to rescue her, but she wasn't and he couldn't and as night descended the feeling of hopelessness grew. He had lashed out, at her family, the police, anyone who hadn't done enough. Because he couldn't take that burden alone, couldn't be the only one to have let her down.

Now he was sitting alone, staring at the bottle on the table in front of him. He didn't even remember buying it, not surprising really, he had so little sleep over the past few days he was running on autopilot. But he knew what he was contemplating, knew what it would mean. He had to choose, which pull was stronger? If he did this it would all go away, for a while at least, the world could turn without him. What good was he doing anyway? But what would she say if she saw him? She'd call him weak no doubt, but then she'd help him, she'd stop him. She'd pull him through. He needed to return the favour. He stood and put the bottle in the cupboard as he got ready to continue his search. All was not yet lost.


	4. Nick

4\. Nick

Carla had really messed things up this time. He'd heard through the loose lipped gossiping in the pub that she was already in a bad way when she disappeared, but it all felt very convenient to him. He had been grateful at first when she had shouldered all the blame, not that he would ever admit that to anyone. The vitriol directed at her meant people didn't question his involvement in the whole sorry situation. But then she was gone, and the unanswered questions remained, attention turning to those who were left behind. She had well and truly dropped him in it, left him to try and salvage something from the rubble of their business, unable to prevent investigators prying into his affairs, unearthing secrets he had needed to remain hidden. She should have told him about the roof straight away or not at all, instead of burdening him with guilt he didn't deserve. Ok so he had known there was a problem, but he had played no part in decisions, trusted her to act in both their interests. He should have learnt his lesson by now, the only person he could truly trust was himself and now he was paying the price.

Why had he got back involved with her in the first place? The history they shared, both professional and personal was complicated to say the least. Their previous attempt to run the factory together was nothing short of disastrous, she had undermined him at every turn, her lack of respect for him obvious to all, making his job nigh on impossible. He had despised her back then, not that she cared of course, after all it was only business. He had actually learned a lot in that time, her ruthlessness had rubbed off on him, stood him in good stead for his future ventures; he wouldn't let anyone play him like that again. But then he had got to know her properly. He couldn't pinpoint how exactly it had happened; in the intervening years their paths had crossed of course, both stood on the side lines whilst their other halves squabbled over Simon's welfare, bound by loyalty to their relevant partners at the time to treat each other with disdain. He had seen from afar the fallout of her relationship with Peter, marvelled at how she had come through the other side, but it wasn't until later, when their orbits once again happened to align that things changed.

At first it had excited him, she was like a firecracker, challenging him, their jokey flirtation giving them both what they needed. But then she had let him see thorough her tough exterior, just briefly at first, offhand comments that betrayed her confident front, showed him there was much more to her than he had ever imagined. As always, it wasn't that simple, as if it ever could be. Events in both their lives conspired to keep them apart, and he had to watch from a distance when her world fell apart after the fire at her flat. He had seen her vulnerability, helped her come through the other side; eventually giving in to the feelings he just couldn't ignore, and they had been truly happy, for a brief while anyway. But she had betrayed him in the worst way. He should have seen it coming, she had a proclivity to self-sabotage, it was as if she didn't believe she truly deserved the life she craved. She'd always done it, using alcohol, gambling, any tool at her disposal to punish herself, to push those who cared away. But he couldn't forgive her infidelity, and although time had lessened his bitterness, he couldn't forget the shared future that she had thrown away. Being back with her in the factory had initially been fun for him. He had enjoyed having the upper hand for a change, but soon her attempts to shut him out were frustrating, the distraction of setting up the barbers became a relief, the reason he had taken his eye off the ball. Once bitten, twice shy; he should have heeded the warning signs, realised it would be no different this time around, never got involved in the first place.

He couldn't walk down the street without seeing her face adorning one of the many posters Peter had filled every empty surface with. Despite everything it made him sad that the clever, funny woman he had once felt so connected to was now so lost, if she really was as ill as they said then who knew if or when she would be found. He should have guessed Peter would come crawling back for her when she was at her lowest. When they were together, he had seen first-hand the damage done to her. She could never truly trust anybody because of Peter, yet she couldn't seem let him go, and Nick had never quite managed to shake the feeling that he was the runner up, that her love for him would never quite match up to what she had before. Maybe he was still jealous now, although he didn't know why. He should be glad to be out of it, settled in his life with Leanne whilst Peter could go through the trauma of trying to pick up the pieces of a woman he had helped to break.

He needed to stop wallowing in the past. Carla's influence on his life was gone; even if she came back now she was no longer in control. She would either be looking at a lengthy prison sentence, or else be in no state to run the factory which had once been her whole life. Nick couldn't decide which option was better. He did feel some sympathy for her, but she wasn't his responsibility anymore and he wasn't going to let her destroy anything else for him. Whatever the consequences he would be looking after himself. She had ruined his life enough times already, he wasn't going to let it happen again. He had finally learnt his lesson.


	5. Ken

5\. Ken

He'd been doing so well. Four years, seven months and twenty-eight days sober. Ken had been so proud of him, he was very aware that this was something that Peter would never be rid of, but he had dared to hope that the worst was over for him, that he had finally found the balance that meant his cravings could be kept in check. Then Carla had happened again. Ken didn't blame her exactly; well he did, but he understood that this was the last thing she would have wanted. Her and Peter were a paradox, she had been both the cause and remedy to so many of the troubles in his life, how could she simultaneously be his reason to stay sober, and the root of his relapse?

How did he truly feel about Carla? If he was honest with himself he had been pleased when Peter had decided to return to help her after the factory collapse. Despite his insistence that she was firmly in his past they were still clearly drawn to each other, and Ken worried that he would regret not giving it one last try. Back when they first got together he had definitely had his doubts, she was a force of nature and clearly had her own demons to fight. At first he had seen her as a seductress, tempting Peter from his stable life with Leanne and Simon and playing with his emotions to get what she wanted, leading him astray. Deirdre had felt the same way and together they had attempted to make him see sense, change his mind, to no avail. But as time went on and he watched the two of them together he saw how Carla clearly worshipped his son, looking past his many flaws and seeing the good in him, and Ken couldn't help but find his opinion changing, he had eventually grown to love her. She had tried so hard to make it work, put up with so much; often the voice of reason whilst Leanne and Peter fought over Simon. Her own dependence on alcohol remained a concern, but perhaps having somebody understand Peter's issues so deeply meant he could open up in ways he had never been able to with his previous partners, help to keep him on the straight and narrow.

Then it had all gone wrong. Peter's affair with Tina had ripped apart so many lives, and Ken felt nothing but sympathy for Carla when he had discovered his son's betrayal and what it had meant for her. She had remained dignified despite the traumas she had faced, keen to keep the hard-won bond she had begin to forge with Simon, not blaming Ken for his son's mistakes. The stark reality however was that this had demonstrated that no matter how much they loved one another, they just couldn't make it work. Peter had admitted he felt undermined by Carla and it was this that caused him to stray, both from sobriety and from her. Neither could change who they were and too much damage had been done to ever be forgiven. Ken remembered how devastated Peter was when he finally accepted that there was no going back, that he had lost her forever. He had worried that this would push his son over the edge again, but he made it through, his time spent in Portsmouth creating enough distance to let him move forward without the constant reminder of what was left behind.

Peter had eventually come back to the Street, still sober and apparently happy again, but it was never as intense as with Carla, he seemed to cope better during the bad times, but there was never the passion and unity that he and Carla shared. Ken had observed him during his relationship with Toyah, could tell that something was missing although he couldn't quite put his finger on what. When Carla reappeared in Peter's life he knew it would lead to something, he'd watched them dance around each other during the last twelve months as Carla had tried to resist revisiting deep buried feelings, waiting for the inevitable, surprised that it took them so long.

Ken sighed; the house felt so quiet. He couldn't remember the last time there had been just him there, he had grown frustrated at his offspring's inability to fly the nest; both Peter and Tracey had bounced back countless times over the years, they were well past an age where they should need to rely on him. But now he missed the chaos they brought in their wake. He turned the radio on, anything to distract him from the constant worry. He hoped Peter was making the most of this time in rehab, committing to the program designed to bring him back from the brink. He knew that the distraction of Carla would lie heavy on his son's mind. How could it not? Ken wished that there was more he had done to support her when he realised how much she was suffering. The memory of her the last day before she disappeared was so upsetting, she was so unlike the woman he knew, so tortured by her own thoughts; he desperately hoped that she was OK, that she would find a way through this. He just couldn't let Peter be involved. Every time Peter had called in the last few days his only question was if she had been found. It was consuming him and stopping his focus on himself, and Ken couldn't let that happen. He was well aware of his own failings over the years. He had not put Peter first for most of his life, relying on others to bring him up, judging his mistakes and acting morally superior when in reality he had more to be ashamed of than most. He resolved that this time would be different. He would be the father he should have always been and put his needs first. He couldn't let Carla's situation pull Peter back under. Even if she was found, he needed to keep them apart, break the vicious cycle of self-destruction that would only hurt them both. It wouldn't be easy, but it was the right thing to do. Until they were stronger anyway.


	6. Gary

6\. Gary

How had he ended up here? He hadn't meant for any of this to happen yet here he was, sat in a dingy office where he didn't belong, responsible for the deaths of two people.

It was very nearly three.

Rick's death he could almost justify, the world was a better place without him in it, and what options did he really have? He was certain he would have been killed if he hadn't taken drastic action to save himself. Rana's death was harder to defend. He hadn't meant for anyone to get hurt, he had acted out of desperation; sabotaging the roof was meant to force Carla's hand, give him the work and money he so desperately needed. He could never have imagined the chaos that would result. Why were Rana and the rest of them even in the factory that day? As far as he knew it was shut down, empty, how could he be held accountable when they shouldn't have been there in the first place? This fact helped him separate himself from what happened, to carry on with his life, such as it was now. He wasn't a murderer, it was an accident, owning up would not bring her back.

Then there was Carla. He had seen her a couple of times since she had been released from hospital, always from a distance, Peter a constant by her side. He was relieved to see her improving; he thought back to a few weeks ago, the state she was in, what her guilt had driven her to. In some ways it was this he found hardest to reconcile in his mind. He had chosen to stand back and watch her take the blame; going so far as to pressure her to keep his name out of it, and she had done so, shouldering the burden alone. From what he had heard since it was only down to Peter that she wasn't another corpse he was responsible for; in her confused state death had seemed like the best way out for her. He knew he could have stopped it from happening; he had watched her mental decline, made the choice to let her suffer rather than tell the truth. This he knew was inexcusable.

Was it all completely his fault though? Surely she must own some of the blame? He had warned Carla more than once how dangerous it was to disregard the roof issues; OK so he had exaggerated the seriousness at the time, but she wasn't to know that so her decision to ignore him was reckless, her guilt not completely misplaced. The roof would possibly have collapsed eventually without his intervention, and who was to say she would got it fixed it in time anyway. He worried about bumping into her, whether he would be able to keep up the act, make small talk like nothing had happened. In the back of his mind was a growing dread that she would remember him being in her hospital room, rooting through her things, looking for the phone holding the message that betrayed his guilt. She had spoken to him that day from her hospital bed, asked him why he was there, fear evident in her voice. He hadn't worried at first, after all who would believe the ramblings of a confirmed mad-woman. He had been ready to act surprised, laugh it off if Peter had asked about it. But now was different. She may not be completely better but she had control of her mind again; if she remembered and challenged him could he lie his way out of it? He wasn't so sure so decided to keep his distance, not give her the opportunity to ask.

Sarah seemed to be growing closer to Carla in recent days. Gary felt anger even considering this. After all Sarah was the reason for the actions that led them all here; his desperate attempts to salvage a relationship which he could now see was doomed all along. He couldn't bear to watch her playing happy families with Adam; if only she knew what he had sacrificed for her, he was sure that the jumped-up lawyer she had chosen over him would never show the same commitment. Maybe one day she would look back and understand that everything he did was for her. Probably not. One thing he was sure of was that he had to look after himself now. He had his sons to support, his life to rebuild, and this time he wasn't going to let anyone get in his way.


End file.
